Young Hero
by katie1999
Summary: New world Zorro. An old scar evokes some childhood memories and leads to some surprising revelations.


**Young Hero**

_Disclaimer: This story was written solely for the enjoyment of other Zorro fans and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights held by Goodman/Rosen Productions, New World Television, Zorro Productions, the estate of Johnston McCulley or anyone else._

„What have you got there?" Zorro asked Victoria as he wrapped her ankle. Embarrassed Victoria tried to pull her ankle away to keep him from looking at the long white scar that wound all around her ankle. Normally it was invisible and could be seen only at closer inspection.

"It looks like it's from a rope or a manacle that has cut deep into your skin."

"It wasn't a rope, it was a whip."

"Tell me about it!"

Reluctantly she started to recount the tale slowly remembering the day she got the cut.

"It's nothing, I got it as a child and I don't remember much of it any more. I was having a fight with my brothers because they wouldn't let me play ... so I ran away to play on my own at the river. We were forbidden to play there, but I was angry and I wanted to be alone. I nearly fell into the river but there was a boy who saved me with his whip. That's about all I remember."

"You?" Zorro thought to himself even as he couldn't keep the surprise out of his blue eyes.

Diego remembered the summer he had turned ten very well. Pablo, the old vaquero had shown him his tricks with the whip and had impressed him by plucking apples from high branches with his whip. Like a snake it had wrapped around the apple until it had a tight grip and all he had to do was pull at the whip to get it.

Diego had tried to imitate the vaquero and practiced a lot with his own whip. His father had not approved of it, saying that a whip was something for a vaquero to use. A caballero would use a sword. But a sword couldn't get him an apple, making him keep on practicing with his whip in secret.

He had passed by the river when he heard someone shouting. After dismounting from his horse he saw a small girl that was about to fall into the swirling water desperately clinging to a branch.

"Help me," she cried when she saw him.

He had tried to reach her hand, but his arms were not long enough and she couldn't let go of the branch. There had been no time to get help and he had to save her quickly. He had been practicing with his whip all afternoon and it was still attached to his belt.

After a few tries he finally managed what he hadn't been able to achieve before. He wrapped the whip all around the girl's ankle and started to pull her towards him. The girl had let go of the branch and all that kept her from being swept away by the current was the whip around her ankle. Not strong enough to pull her out of the river by himself he attached the whip to his horse and with its help slowly pulled her to the shore.

"Are you alright?" he asked the crying girl who was about six years old but small for her age.

"Thank you, you saved my life, I have never been that scared before," she said gratefully.

"Can you stand?" he asked when she slowly pulled herself to her feet.

"Yes, but your whip has hurt me," she pointed to her left ankle where the whip had cut deeply into her flesh leaving a bloody wound around it that looked like a snake.

"Here, take my handkerchief and wrap it around your ankle, you can keep it," he offered pulling an unused handkerchief from his pocket.

"Thank you. You were marvelous with your whip and your horse," she said admiringly while she wrapped her ankle, but then she looked up when she heard someone yelling. "My brothers are looking for me. I must go." Limping only a little she ran to the woods and vanished from sight never telling him her name.

He felt proud at her praise, but he knew it had been mostly good luck that he had been able to pull her out. But next time he would do better and it would be skill then, but he needed to practice a lot more with his whip. And it would be nice also if he could better rely on his horse, maybe train it to do what he wanted.

Diego chuckled a little when he thought again of the events of that day. From that day on he had never ceased practicing with his whip until it became like an extended hand for him. Without it he would never be able to overcome the lancers so quickly whenever he came to the pueblo. And now it had turned out that it had been Victoria whose life he had saved and who had set him on his course.

What he couldn't anticipate was Victoria sitting on her bed in the evening with a girl's treasure box on her lap thinking of Zorro's surprised reaction earlier that day as well as his proficiency with his whip.

On the very bottom lay a neatly folded handkerchief from the boy with the blue eyes who had once saved her life. In the corner was embroidered the first letter, the first letter of its owner's name. "D? Diego?"

A/N: Thanks to KlingonKitten for beta reading.


End file.
